Hide and Seek
by Morphea
Summary: Ficlet. An innocent hide-and-seek game turns into a nightmare for a very young Legolas, including his first encounter with an Orc. Complete.


**A/N**: This ficlet is extracted from my story "From the Sea it Came", where it is included as flashbacks to Legolas' childhood. "Hide and Seek" is completely independent from the other story and can be read separately. However, if you wish to know more about the circumstances of the flashbacks, please check my profile and read "From the Sea it Came". In addition, the names and personalities of Mîrdolen and Faelernil - Legolas' older brothers - are my own creation. These two Elves first appeared in "From the Sea it Came" and they've grown on me so much that I wouldn't be able to write about Legolas' family without the two of them any more.  
  
In this story, Legolas' age would be the Elven equivalent of 6 years old.  
  
Big thanks to **Candice** who originally beta'd "From the Sea it Came", hence also is the beta of this ficlet.  
  


**Hide-and-Seek**

  
  
A very young Legolas walked swiftly and silently through the gardens of Mirkwood's Palace. He had to find the perfect hide this time for he could not let them win once again. On his way he briefly considered the trees, but they were the most common hides and he knew he would be found quickly should he climb one of them.  
  
It was only once he reached the very end of the gardens that he stopped. He had to be quick for the others would come looking for him very soon. He briefly rested against a wall covered with ivy before standing again: there was something unnatural about this wall.  
  
Legolas' hand searched the surface for a few seconds until he stilled and smiled. As he pushed aside a section of ivy a dark recess was revealed. Approximately one yard inside was an opening in the ground.  
  
Legolas immediately walked inside and examined the opening. It seemed to lead to a sublevel. Certainly the dungeons, he supposed, and this was probably some kind of aeration system. It did not seem very high, and he knew he could go down there very easily. Knowing the other children would come very soon Legolas hesitated no longer.  
  
He slid down to the ground and smirked. The others would never find him there. The rules specified they were not supposed to leave the gardens for the palace, but he was not in the palace, was he? Legolas thought with a mischievous smile. This time he would beat them at their own game.  
  
Legolas undertook to get to know the place. He had never been there - his father would have never allowed it. He seemed to be at the very end of a long and dark corridor, and was surprised to discover the place was very poorly lit.  
  
If it was not for the few torches every now and then on the walls, the place would be plunged in complete darkness.  
  
About to explore further, Legolas suddenly froze right on spot, slightly intimidated by the sound of shouts and growls. Where did they all come from? He ventured a look down the corridor. There were cells on both sides and arms sporadically reaching out for the Elven guards. That was not the way he had pictured the dungeons.  
  
Legolas jumped when a growl resounded very close to him. Only then did he realise that only a few yards from him on his right was an inhabited cell. Its occupant was observing him closely while clutching the cell's bars tightly.  
  
Lured by curiosity, Legolas could not help but step closer to examine the creature. Was that an Orc? He had never seen one for real before but he had seen illustrations in books. He had long thought the descriptions were exaggerated but it seemed they were not for he had never seen such an ungraceful being. However the look full of hatred had not been transcribed.  
  
The Orc was still observing him, and as it pressed its face against the bars its eyes narrowed and gleamed with avidity.  
  
Before Legolas knew it the Orc had thrown its arm at him. Legolas barely had the time to feel the Orc's hand on his neck before a strong arm picked him up from behind and pulled him away from the cell.  
  
In retrospect Legolas would realise much later that he had been very close to losing his head that day - literally. But the only thing he would remember from the few seconds that followed was a blurred chaos mixed with growls, someone shouting at the Orc, more growls, until his feet reached the ground again.  
  
Legolas instantly turned round and was somewhat relieved to recognise Valendil, one of his father's Captains.  
  
The older Elf crouched until he was eye level with Legolas and examined him quickly to make sure he was all right.  
  
"This is no place for a child, my young Prince," said Valendil before standing up. "Please allow me to lead you back to the door."  
  
Firmly holding his shoulder and pushing him forward, the Captain did not leave Legolas much choice.  
  
"But this is a great place to hide!" Legolas complained as they walked past more cells.  
  
Valendil frowned and eyed him with a grave look. "Who are you hiding from?"  
  
"The other children!" Legolas replied as though it should have been obvious. "They will never find me here and I will win the game!"  
  
The Captain smiled softly. "Probably, but this is a dangerous place and I will not allow you to stay here. Come on, follow me."  
  
Legolas complied with a disappointed pout, until they were only a few yards from the front door.  
  
Somewhere far behind was a sudden shout followed by some growls. Then the sound of metal clashing and someone calling the Captain with urgency.  
  
Valendil had stopped guiding Legolas and was looking back, listening intently. He eventually urged Legolas towards the door one last time. "Go outside. Now," he ordered hurriedly before turning on his heels. The Elf looked back only once as he moved away to make sure Legolas was obeying, and seemed satisfied to see the Elfling's hand on the door's handle.  
  
But Legolas did not open it for he realised no one was paying him any attention any more, too busy were they taking care of whatever was happening in the back of the dungeons.  
  
If he went out now the others would undoubtedly spot him immediately. Maybe he could find a way to remain hidden in the dungeons without the guards noticing him, he thought as he wondered where that door on the side wall led.  
  
Hesitating no longer, he cast one last look around to make sure no one was watching him before opening the concealed door. As soon as he was inside he slowly and silently closed the door.  
  
His grin of satisfaction soon faded as he realised the room he had just entered was pitch black. Not a single torch to light the place. Which was a good thing in a way: it meant the place was no longer in use and no one would think to look for him in there.  
  
Legolas turned round and leant against the door. If he stayed near the entrance anyone opening it even briefly would see him immediately. No, he should hide further in the dark.  
  
Legolas took a tentative step forward, then a second. Now confident, he went on, his arms probing in front of him so as to feel the opposite wall when he would reach it.  
  
But his hands found none and at his fourth step his foot found no ground either. Surprised and unbalanced, he tripped and fell down a flight of stairs.  
  


*****

  
  
When Legolas opened his eyes, he was still in the darkness but feeling extremely sore. His head and shoulders were resting uncomfortably against a wall while his legs were slightly elevated - probably laying on the last steps of the stairs he supposed. It was likely he had lost consciousness, but for how much time he could not tell.  
  
As he tried to straighten into a more comfortable position, he yelped with pain as a sharp ache shot through his right shoulder. After a few other painful attempts at moving it he knew with certainty that it was dislocated.  
  
Legolas lifted the hand of his functioning arm to massage his sore temple but stopped as soon as his fingers touched his skin and found dry blood. Suddenly realising he might have more injuries, he began checking all parts of his body: arms, wrists, chest, legs and - ouch. A twisted ankle as well, he noted.  
  
It must have been quite a fall. Too bad he remembered none of it.  
  
Legolas gave a quick look around, even though there was nothing to see. No single light, not even from the door that had led him there and that he could no longer locate. No stars above him to guide his steps. No trees to whisper him his way. Only darkness.  
  
"Captain Valendil?" he tried as he began panicking slightly, but the only answer he got was the echo of his own voice.  
  
He did not like this echo. It was distorted, unpleasant, and it reminded him that he was trapped there alone, no one knowing where he was.  
  
Legolas tried to stand up slowly, making sure not to aggravate his injuries. He supported himself on the wall, grazing his hand against its rough material, but fell back an instant later. Feeling a bit dizzy, he stood still for a second.  
  
He had to climb these stairs, find that door and get out of there. Legolas turned round carefully and crawled to the stairs. Then he began climbing them laboriously, one after the other, helping himself with one arm and one leg only.  
  
Legolas paused after a few steps to catch his breath. The fall had left him exhausted, and he was not sure he would be able to reach the top. For all he knew there could be several levels between him and the door. Maybe he was too far from the main part of the dungeons for someone to hear him if he called.  
  
"Captain Valendil?" he called again, louder than the first time, and once more all he heard back was his own voice.  
  
His eyes stung as they filled with tears. No, he thought, he would not cry. He was a Prince and Princes were strong and did not cry.  
  
His parents or someone would find him soon. But he had hidden there specifically so that no one would find him, so would anyone think to look down there? His hopes scattered as he realised that if the blood on his temple was dry already, it meant he had been there for a while.  
  
His eyes stung more than ever. "Naneth!" he called desperately as his first tears began to fall. "Ada!" he called again, no longer able to hold back his budding sobs as the sound of his voice came back to him once more. (A/N: _"Mother", "Father"_)  
  
Legolas began crying without restraint, dreaming of being somewhere else, anywhere else.  
  
An eternity seemed to pass by until he heard a sound upstairs. Legolas quickly dried his cheeks with the back of his hand and sniffled one last time before looking up. A second later the sudden light of a torch blinded him and he barely saw the Elf holding it turning round to call.  
  
"He is down here! My Lords, down here!"  
  
Almost instantly Legolas' father appeared next to the Elven guard, his face a mask of worry. The next moment Legolas' mother was at Thranduil's side. As soon as she saw her son her face fell.  
  
"Legolas!" she exclaimed with concern before rushing down the stairs, almost knocking over the guard standing in her way.  
  
"Míriel!" Thranduil implored, worried to see his wife going down the sharp stairs so hurriedly.  
  
Míriel soon reached her son. She knelt next to him and took his face between her hands. "Legolas, nín tithen pen…" she whispered, relief shining brightly in her eyes. (A/N: _"My little one"_)  
  
"Naneth," Legolas greeted, instinctively wrapping his arm around his mother's neck as his eyes filled with tears again. (A/N: _"Mother"_)  
  
"Are you wounded?" she queried softly.  
  
Legolas managed to articulate the words shoulder and ankle between sniffles.  
  
"What happened?" she asked next as she lifted him in her arms.  
  
Legolas snuggled up to his mother and between sobs and sniffles tried to explain what happened while she carried him up the stairs. The result was an incoherent assemblage of barely audible words that probably only a mother could understand.  
  
He was done with his story when they all reached the landing. Legolas sniffled one last time before looking up to the unreadable face of his father with apprehension. The Elven King was probably very displeased with his son.  
  
Thranduil remained silent as he examined Legolas before speaking up. "By the Valar, Legolas, how many times have I told you how dangerous a place this is! You knew you were not allowed to enter the dungeons! And what could possibly possess you to go down there? Your mother and I have been worrying for hours! You could have broken your neck falling down these stairs!"  
  
Legolas recoiled at the harsh tone and snuggled up even closer to his mother as he was on the verge of crying again. "Will I be punished?" he dared in a whisper.  
  
Thranduil took a look at the dishevelled hair, the red eyes, the wet cheeks, the trembling lips, the dangling arm. "I believe being trapped for hours alone in the dark and injured was enough of a punishment already."  
  
Thranduil then frowned and pushed a few strands of hair away on his son's forehead to have a better view of the wound there. "Only a superficial wound," he declared with relief after a few seconds of inspection.  
  
The Elf's hand slowly trailed down Legolas' face until it rested tenderly on his son's cheek. "Eru be blessed you are still in one piece," Thranduil said in a barely audible murmur.  
  
Queen Míriel briefly reminded her husband their son had to be brought to the House of Healing, and Thranduil nodded.  
  
As his mother carried him away, Legolas watched over her shoulder as his father turned towards his men.  
  
"I want this door locked and sealed within an hour. It will then remain that way under all circumstances. That part of the dungeons is no longer in use anyway, and the stairs are way too dangerous." Thranduil paused. "Now I would like to have a word with whoever was supposedly in charge of the dungeons' entrance watch this afternoon."  
  
On their way to the House of Healing Míriel made a detour and entered one of the meeting rooms, assuring him that it would not be long. She then began rummaging in the drawer of a commode.  
  
As Legolas watched over her shoulder again he had a perfect view of his two older brothers, looking at a large map displayed on the table. It seemed they were discussing tactics - or rather Faelernil was explaining tactics while Mîrdolen endured. Faelernil was a young adult, but educated enough to be able to teach the basics of the art of war to his younger brother. As for Mîrdolen he was still a young Elf and, as their father liked to ironically put it, a slightly hyperactive one.  
  
Completely captivated by his older brother's soliloquy, Mîrdolen took a look towards his mother and his younger brother with an expression of absolute boredom painfully engraved on his face.  
  
Mîrdolen frowned at the sight of Legolas' red eyes and pout. Then he smiled mischievously and began making faces at the Elfling. He did not have to wait for long to see the effects: Legolas immediately chuckled and his pout vanished.  
  
"… then the only way is to send troops north to stop their progression. And if you really think I do not see what you are doing in my back, Mîrdolen, you are greatly mistaken."  
  
By the time Faelernil turned to look at his brother Mîrdolen had regained his composure and was looking back at the older Elf with an expression of sheer innocence. Faelernil could only scowl at Mîrdolen for a couple of seconds before turning his attention back to the map.  
  
"As I was saying…" Faelernil started again, clearly annoyed.  
  
Legolas and his mother left the room just as Mîrdolen discreetly winked at him.  
  



End file.
